Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?
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by William Shakespeare (1564-1616)
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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date. Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd; But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. |
jueves, 21 de marzo de 2013
World Poetry Day
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6 comentarios:
Wonderful! Well chosen! :)
May I suggest this other pearl of English poetry?
Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
Emily Dickinson
xoxo
Thank you dear Bliss!! you sure know how to cheer me!!!
I knew you'd love it! ;)
Though not on the proper day, I'd also like to share a piem with you all to celebrate. I chose Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
How Do I Love Thee?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints,
I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
well Roma, you didn't do it bad yourself, either.
Thank you very much for this beautiful poem!!
The only British poem I know is The Rime of the Ancient Mariner just because Iron Maiden wrote a song called the same. It was written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1798. So this entry has served me to read the rime. As I won't take up too much room, I leave the link here to read it: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/173253.
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